

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, 









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No. 1379. Annual Subscription $30. Entered at the Post Office, New York, 
as second class matter, May 14, 1889. 


URSE 

UPON 

Mitre Squhre 

A. D. 1530-1888. 

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BY 

JOHN FRANCIS BREWER. 


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The Cubse 

UPON 

Mitbe Sqtjabe. 

A.D. 1530-1888. 



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THE CUESE UPON MITEE 
SQUAEE. 



BOOK I. 

THE TRAGEDIES IN THE CHURCH OF 
HOLY TRINITY, ALDGATE. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE NEOPHYTE. 

I T was curious that, notwithstanding their power 
and wealth, their well acknowledged munificence, 
and their good fortune in other respects, the monks 
of Holy Trinity Church, Aldgate, were but ill at 
ease in the year of grace 1530. All that, monks 
wished for they possessed. The Priory was, with 
the exception of Westminster, the most superb 
monastic institution in Middlesex. In its revenues 
were included the whole ward of Portsoken, four 
parish churches acknowledged its authority, and its 
privileges far exceeded those of any institution of 
the like kind, with the one exception named above. 


8 


THE CUBSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


It is true that its wealth had been in former times 
even greater, and its sway over a portion of the city 
more undisputed ; bub still so much remained, so 
much glory and magnificence still adhered to the 
monastery, that it was strange the forty monks 
should have cause for apprehension. 

These monks were of the order of canons regular, 
and with greater power and greater wealth than fell 
to the lot of other monasteries, they, notwithstanding, 
escaped the open hostility of the king and his nobles. 
This being the case, it is plain that they were chari- 
table and popular with their parishioners. Had any 
scandal attached to the Priory or its inmates, had 
its revenues been ill-managed, or the poor of the 
district adjoining cause for complaint that their 
wants were not attended to, then certain is it that 
the rapacious King Hal and his still more rapacious 
nobles would have marked it for destruction. Such, 
however, was not the case ; neither king nor nobles 
dared lay hand on so useful and popular an insti- 
tution, and Prior and monks reigned supreme, safe 
from the temporal power which feared to touch 
them. 

The monks were, however, unhappy, and knew 
well the cause of their uneasiness. In the beginning 
of the year a rumour had reached the Prior that 
one of the forty had been seen in an adjoining church 
under very suspicious circumstances. What these 
were the Prior did not deem fit to mention ; all he 
attempted was to discover the delinquent who was 
so likely to bring discredit on his fellows. This was 


THE NEOPHYTE. 


9 


no easy matter, and the conduct of the forty being, 
as a rule, so exemplary, the Prior — easy-going, 
weak-minded man that he was — soon abandoned his 
search, and dismissed the rumour as unfounded. 

Viewed from the events which afterwards oc- 
curred, it was a great misfortune to the monastery 
of Holy Trinity that Prior Handcock was at this 
juncture its chief. Not that the Prior was a bad 
man ; his faults were not those which would disgrace 
an ordinary individual, but they were eminently 
such as incapacitated him for rule. He was very 
unsuspicious, very frightened of an intellect superior 
to his own, and very liable to favouritism. The 
forty monks were, taking them as a body, a strong- 
minded, intellectual, and hard-headed set, and 
consequently he feared making his authority felt. 
It is, however, but fair to Handcock to mention 
that the men were apparently as good as they were 
clever, and performed cheerfully the by no means 
easy tasks allotted to them. 

The Prior’s favourite was generally the man who 
had last entered the monastery, and who came fresh 
from the pleasures, cares, and turmoils of life. There 
was much that was cheering in this habit of the 
Prior, and it often turned out well. The tran- 
quillity, the freedom from petty worries, the 
probabilities of future reward, the even tenor of the 
monkish life, were put before the young man with 
no little eloquence by the kind Prior, and the youth 
felt satisfied, and stifled any wish to return to the 
world and its wicked ways. But there was also a 


10 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


danger in this partiality. Handcock would never 
recognise that of all his flock the latest comer was 
the most liable to err ; never could he bring himself 
to believe that the neophyte might not be a saint ; 
the young man was never suspected, a cloak of 
protection was thrown over him, and he felt secure 
from punishment. Now if the neophyte was a good 
man, as of course was generally the case, all was 
well ; if, however, as must sometimes happen in every 
institution, he was a black sheep, his misdeeds were 
often undiscovered and, if possible, overlooked, and 
thereby likely to bring great disgrace on the 
monastery. 

In the year before this narrative commences a 
young man of great promise entered the Priory of 
Holy Trinity. His appearance attracted attention, 
and when he conversed he infatuated his hearers 
with the eloquence and charm of his discourse. 

Of spare frame, though not short, he looked 
delicate, but the head bespoke great power, and 
told of strong passion, and no unusual capacity for 
good or evil. 

Martin, for such was his name, was very dark, 
with thick black hair, eyebrows that met and gave 
to the face a somewhat sinister look, which was 
partly corrected by the perfectly straightforward- 
looking blue eyes, which is occasionally seen in very 
dark persons. The nose was aqui ! ine, but too 
thin, and the mouth, the worst feature in the face, 
firmly closed and not unfrequently hidden by the 
hand. This was the more curious, as Martin 


THE NEOPHYTE. 


II 


possessed the whitest teeth imaginable, beautiful 
in their regularity and perfection. 

When not conversing Martin’s appearance gave 
the impression of an intellect debased by cunning 
and evil passion ; when, however, he spoke, his 
eloquence and manner dispelled this, and intellect 
only was discernible. 

Such was the neophyte and favoured protege of 
Prior Handcock. Great pains were taken to interest 
Martin in his new duties, but at first no special 
work was allotted to him. The monks realised that 
he was no ordinary man, and though, as a rule, they 
did not favour new comers, they for once approved 
the Prior’s selection of a favourite, and regarded 
him as the coming light of the monastery. 

It was soon evident that Martin’s career would 
be that of a preacher, and so well did he work and 
so exemplary was his character, that the Prior, after 
consulting the other monks, decided that the more 
onerous duties should be waived in order that he 
might pursue such studies that would befit him for 
an orator. 

Martin progressed very rapidly under the treat- 
ment of the good monks, and made himself a great 
master of rhetoric. His natural polish of manner 
and silvery voice held him in good stead, and his 
expressive ‘face emphasised the thoughts that he 
uttered. 

The Prior, however, discovered that his young 
protege took but little interest in the works of the 
Fathers, and made tardy progress in theology. 


12 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


Everything was done to make Martin conversant 
with the burning questions of the day ; no pains were 
spared to enlist his sympathy and talents in the 
religious cause in which all were interested, but 
to no avail. Martin listened to his instructors, 
apparently pondered over what they said, but was 
dull and sullen when theology, dogma, or the great 
cause were subjects of their counsel. The Prior 
perceiving the uselessness of his instruction at last 
gave way, and allowed his pupil to pursue his study 
of rhetoric according to his bent, but insisted that 
he should possess a fair knowledge of theology 
before being allowed to preach in public in the 
great church of Holy Trinity. 

Martin’s companions were, as we have stated, 
intellectual and good men ; they performed their 
routine duties, both religious and temporal, in a 
manner which brought credit on themselves and 
happiness on their flock ; but at the time in which 
this narrative is cast an unscrupulous and very able 
monarch hungered for the wealth of this most 
wealthy monastery, and it was said that he was 
only waiting for a fitting opportunity to stretch 
forth his greedy hand and grasp the prize. 

The king employed dirty men to do his dirty 
work, and many of his tools possessed the wily 
cunning and insatiable thirst for gold which dis- 
tinguished their master. 

Foremost among these men was Thomas Audley, 
Speaker of the House of Commons, to whom the 
king was in debt and anxious to repay. Audley had 


THE NEOPHYTE. 


13 


an old grudge against the Priory of Holy Trinity, 
and had bargained with the king that should an 
opportunity occur and the monastery be suppressed, 
the proceeds should go to paying off this old debt. 

The enmity of Audley was well known to the 
monks, who recognised in him their secret foe ; but 
they felt no alarm so long as their reputation stood 
high with the people of the city. 

Such was the condition of affairs when the 
strangest rumour reached the ears of the Prior. 
The monks were not told the nature of this rumour 
at first ; all they knew was that, if true, it boded ill 
to them, and Prior Handcock, like all unsuspicious 
and weak men, stuck obstinately to his insane deter- 
mination of keeping the information secret from the 
monks, and after awhile dismissed the rumour as 
unfounded. 

In such fashion was laid the foundation for the 
ghastly tragedies and inhuman wickedness which 
have stamped one small portion of the site of Holy 
Trinity Church with the curse of Cain, 


14 


THE CURSE U1 3 0N MITRE SQUARE. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE STOLEN MEETING. 

Almost facing the Abbey Church and spacious 
monastic buildings of Holy Trinity, Aldgate, but 
separated from them by Houndsditch— at the time 
of this narrative a broad stream of water- was a row 
of dwelling-houses, with gabled roofs and gardens at 
the back. 

In one of these there dwelt a woman of about 
thirty, whose manner was so reserved, and ostracism 
from her neighbour so complete, that she was 
viewed with suspicion, and would certainly have 
been forced to live elsewhere but for the fact that 
she was reputed to be under the special protection 
of a high official of the Court. 

This woman’s life appeared to be quite purpose- 
less, with the exception that twice a week she 
received messages from the hands of a page, to 
whom she delivered answers for her mysterious 
correspondent. The people in the neighbouring 
houses watched the woman’s movements with 
intense interest, and argued rightly that she was 
the accomplice in some fell purpose; the livery of 
the page, however, protected her, and whatever 
may have been the scheme in which she was 


THE STOLEN MEETING. 


15 


engaged, it was matured without interruption from 
the neighbouring inmates. 

This prying curiosity, though it stopped short of 
open enmity, left no stone unturned to discover the 
reason of the mysterious woman's secrecy and the 
nature of her scheme. She was watched night and 
day, but beyond the advent and departure of the 
page nothing was found out. 

After awhile, however, their watching was re- 
warded by an event which, though it increased their 
curiosity, protected the woman still further from 
insult. 

One evening in January, in the year 1530, when 
the snow lay thick upon the ground, it was noticed 
that a man, after leaving his horse in a neighbouring 
hostelry, approached the dwellings by a circuitous 
route as if to avoid notice, and after a careful search- 
ing look to see that he was unobserved, let himself 
into the house where the strange woman lived. 
Notwithstanding his precautions, every circumstance 
of the visit was noted by the neighbours, the stealthy 
appearance, the length of the interview, and the 
height and general appearance of the man himself. 
His departure was effected in the same stealthy 
manner, but on arriving at the hostelry a surprise 
was in store for him ; the trapping and saddle of his 
horse had been removed, and no particulars of the 
robbery could be given by anyone. 

The visit was repeated at irregular intervals, and 
always in the same stealthy fashion, the only differ- 
ence being that the man altered his attire to that of 


16 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


a peasant ; whereas on the first occasion he had 
been richly apparelled. He also came on foot — a 
precaution evidently considered necessary from the 
robbery of the saddle. Owing to the poor lighting 
of the road and the fear to approach too near, none 
had seen the man’s face sufficiently well to enable 
them to again recognise it ; a fact which the inhabi- 
tants greatly deplored, but consoled themselves with 
the possession of the stolen saddle, and thought that 
by its means the name and position of the singular 
visitor would be made known to them. 

After the fourth visit, which took place in broad 
daylight, the man and woman left the house to- 
gether, and, avoiding the bridge opposite the monas- 
tery and Aid Gate, turned to the right and crossed 
Houndsditch by the bridge of Bishop’s Gate, some 
little distance off. 

This circumstance, though apparently not of great 
importance, greatly exercised the minds of the 
watchers, and suggested to them that whatever the 
secret was, the pair wished to avoid the monks. 

That this may not be unintelligible to readers, 
they must know that (see frontispiece) Aid Gate was 
an approach to the monastery, through a courtyard 
of which it would be necessary to pass in order to 
gain access to the city. Now, the fact that the pair 
avoided this route and took the longer one over 
Bishop’s Gate Bridge, was proof that they did not 
wish to be seen by the inmates of the monastery. 
After crossing Bishop’s Gate Bridge the pair escaped 
the vigilance of the watchers. 


THE STOLEN MEETING. 


17 


Bearing to the left, the route taken was along 
Bishopsgate Street, through St. Mary Axe into 
Leadenhall Street, passing the stately tower of St. 
Mary Undershaft, when finally they approached the 
little church of St. Catherine Cree, adjoining the 
Abbey buildings. 

The man showed a warrant and was allowed to 
ascend the tower of this church, which commands 
a good view of the cloisters and outbuildings of Holy 
Trinity. The singular part of the affair was that 
the woman was allowed to accompany him ; a very 
rare privilege, and one which could only have been 
granted by reason of the importance of the warrant 
or the high official position of the man himself. 

The monks were at recreation in the cloisters, but 
after awhile emerged into the open court, and the man 
who had impatiently awaited for this event, pointed 
them out to his companion and bade her watch 
intently. In little groups the monks marched 
slowly to the transept door of the great church, 
which, when opened, emitted the solemn strains 
of the distant organ. 

The man again grew impatient. It was evident 
he was watching for one who had not yet appeared. 
As far as was possible, from the distance he 
scrutinised the face of each monk, and as the last 
two figures emerged into the court he awoke the 
flagging interest of his companion, and bade her 
mark the younger of the two. 

Martin was engaged in serious converse with the 
Prior. The strongly-marked features were quite 


18 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


visible from the tower, and the woman, after gazing 
at him earnestly for about a minute, satisfied her 
companion that she could not forget the face. On 
descending the tower the pair immediately separated 
and went in opposite directions. 

After the event just recorded the woman fre- 
quently attended the services in the great monastic 
church, and had the worshippers been less devout 
and attended less to their prayers, they might have 
noticed that her gaze was invariably fixed on the 
neophyte whenever he was present, all his move- 
ments being watched with unflagging interest. 

Not only did the woman attend the church in 
service time, still more frequently was she there 
on less public occasions, especially in the mornings 
and evenings, when the monks were reciting their 
offices, such as Prime, Mattins, etc. But whether 
the church was full or empty, her interest was 
centred on Martin. For him and him alone did she 
attend the Church of Ploly Trinity. 

Several months elapsed before the scheme pro- 
gressed one jot. Many times did the mysterious 
man visit his accomplice. Long consultations they 
had together, but apparently nothing came of 
them. Evidently the intention of the woman was 
to get Martin by himself, probably to speak to him ; 
but this was difficult to accomplish. When engaged 
in their temporal duties the monks went their 
respective ways, one to one occupation and a second 
to another, and so on. But Martin being the 
youngest, and in training, had no mission entrusted 


THE STOLEN MEETING. 


19 


to him. The monks were generally together when 
in church ; one hour a week, however, each spent in 
solitary prayer before the altar, and the woman 
when she discovered this resolved to note the hour 
and wait till Martin’s turn came, and thus obtain an 
interview. 

She found, in addition, that these hours for 
solitary prayer were fixed, that is to say, each monk 
knew beforehand when his time would come to 
betake himself to the church to offer up his devo- 
tions before the high altar. Six times did the 
woman enter the church to be disappointed, but 
on the seventh she was more fortunate, and saw 
Martin in the sanctuary alone, but to her dismay 
a few people remained in the church and frustrated 
her design. And after waiting patiently for an hour, 
longing for them to depart, she saw the neophyte 
go back into the monastery, and thus again was she 
foiled in her purpose. 

For a week the church was free from her evil 
presence, but in the following week, on the same 
day and the same hour, she betook herself to the 
place of quest, confident now r of ultimate success. 

It was late in the evening, nearly eight o’clock 
and quite dark, but the woman needed no light. 
She knew her way as well as the most saintly of 
worshippers, and as she approached the church, 
the moon, which had been obscured, suddenly re- 
appeared and lit up the stately magnificence of the 
building, and in spite of herself the woman paused 
and gazed upon the scene. As big as a cathedral, 


20 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


cruciform in shape, and of perfect symmetry, the 
monster church of Holy Trinity was, with the 
exception of the Abbey of Westminster and the 
Cathedral of St. Paul, the finest building of the 
metropolis. Mysterious and solemn it looked on 
this night, and the great tower, with that almost 
human expression, seemed to bid her to depart and 
not disturb its venerable presence. The woman 
wavered a minute in her resolution, but stifling her 
scruples she entered the church and saw the young 
monk kneeling in the sanctuary. Again she wavered, 
so awe-inspiring were the surroundings ; the great 
massive pillars supporting the rounded arches of 
the Norman nave, the symmetrical grace of the late 
Gothic clerestory, the long decorated chancel, with 
the solitary figure bending in prayer just visible in 
the gloom, composed a picture of such impressiveness 
that she could but wish that another had been 
entrusted with the work. 

She approached the sanctuary, and the rustle of 
her dress disturbed Martin, who looked round, dis- 
pleased at the interruption; she beckoned to him, 
and, his curiosity awakened, the monk responded and 
went to the steps of the sanctuary. Perceiving, 
however, that the woman was not in want of help, 
and suddenly remembering his duty and the sus- 
picious nature of the woman's approach, he was 
about to retire, when she removed the head-dress 
which had partly concealed her features, and Martin 
was instantly struck with the remarkable similarity 
of her face to his own. 


THE STOLEN MEETING. 


21 


The same black hair, the same aquiline nose and 
firmly sealed lips, and, still more remarkable, she had 
that habit of shielding the mouth before and after 
speech which he had so vainly tried to cure himself 
of when studying rhetoric. He asked her what she 
wanted of him, when, taking from her mantle a 
small scroll of parchment, she handed it to him, and 
bade him attend her on the morrow in the church 
of St. Catherine Cree hard by. Having delivered 
her message, the woman disappeared, leaving Martin 
astonished and nervous at so curious an interruption 
to his meditation. 

The monk felt it his duty to take no notice of the 
summons and destroy the scroll, but he was seized 
with overmastering curiosity to read it, and then 
determined to attend the woman on the morrow — a 
fatal resolve, pregnant with terrible consequences to 
himself, and still more terrible consequences to 
others. 

On the following day the inhabitants of the gabled 
houses, ever on the alert whenever the doings of 
their mysterious neighbour were concerned, descried 
her again leaving her home with her companion, 
and this time they resolved that the pair should not 
escape them. The saddle and trappings had given 
rise to great discussion, and more than one person 
had suggested a name for the owner, but the discus- 
sions were conducted in secret, a necessary precau- 
tion in those troubled times. The liberty of the 
subject was little understood in those days, the 
power of the king was almost unlimited, the Court 


22 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


was subservient and corrupt, the nobles plotted one 
against the other, and the party favoured by the 
king invariably gained the upper hand. The people 
wisely held aloof from politics, were time-serving to 
a degree, and accepted changes without murmur. 
Woe to the man who questioned the doings of a 
king’s favourite. If noble, his estate was in danger; 
if commoner, his life ! Bluff King Hal ruled with 
an iron hand, and was not too scrupulous in his 
dealings. 

In fear and trembling one or two of the boldest 
followed the mysterious couple and tracked them to 
the church of St. Catherine Cree, where the woman 
had arranged to meet the monk. None dared to 
follow into the church, and were about to depart, 
when a muffled figure brushed past them and 
stealthily took the same direction as the other two. 
Though the people stood in awe of the man who 
visited their silent neighbour, judging him to be 
some noble or State official, they did not fear this 
muffled figure, so quickly going back to the entrance 
of the church, they faced him before he could evade 
them. Notwithstanding his attempts to shield his 
features, they recognised the monk, whose appear- 
ance was well known to them, though they were 
ignorant of his name. 

Now that an inmate of the monastery should be , 
so evidently in league with the suspicious pair much 
puzzled them; perhaps after all no harm was meant. 
Had they not better abandon their watchings ? But 
why had the monk shielded his features and avoided 


TSE stolen meeting. 


23 


their scrutiny? They went home and pondered 
over these things, and concluded to warn the Prior, 
and after discussing the best means of doing so, 
decided that the meeting of the monk in the church 
of St. Catherine Cree should be told, but no mention 
made of the strange man, as it might bring trouble 
upon them. 

In such fashion, and not very intelligibly stated, 
this meeting was a day or two afterwards made 
known to Nicholas Handcock, and for a time caused 
him grave anxiety. The forty monks were as- 
sembled together and questioned. Handcock in- 
formed them that one of the number was reported 
to have entered the neighbouring church under 
circumstances such as would bring disgrace and 
scandal on them all. The wrong-doer was earnestly 
exhorted to confess, in order that further trouble 
might be avoided. The monks looked grave and 
troubled at the news. Their feeling of security left 
them. Was it possible that they harboured a black 
sheep among them ? They could not believe it ; 
each was so earnest and attentive to Ins duties. 

After awhile, however, their suspicion rested on 
Martin, for no especial reason except that, being 
the youngest and least known, he was most liable to 
err. As usual, the Prior refused to suspect his 
favourite, and forbade the monks to harass Martin 
with their questions, and thus to the folly of one 
man and the curiosity of another were to be traced 
the ghastly tragedies which so soon occurred. 


24 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


CHAPTER III. 

passion exultant! 

After his first year's training Martin became 
curious in manner. His mind wandered. His 
interest in study slackened. No progress was made. 
He was subject to shaking fits, which weakened the 
by no means strong frame. His face twitched, and 
the expression changed in a sudden, almost un- 
natural fashion. One minute his heavy brow was 
bent as if in sinister thought ; the hand instinctively 
stole up to the mouth, and tried to hide that tell- 
tale organ. The blue eyes wandered as if frightened 
to fix their gaze on any object, and at such a time 
he looked the incarnation of evil. Another minute 
and this was changed. The brow, though heavy, 
looked that of a clever, not a base man, the blue 
eyes looked straight at their object, and if he spoke, 
the beautiful voice disarmed suspicion and adverse 
criticism. Had a man possessing a knowledge of 
physiognomy studied Martin’s face and its changes of 
expression, he would have arrived at one of two con- 
clusions — either that he was a clever dissembler or a 
man possessed of fierce passions not yet quite under 
his control ; a man who might turn out a saint, but 
would stop short of no crime if evil got the upper 


PASSION EXULTANT ! 


25 


hand, the almost convulsive changes denoting 
that at present neither good nor evil claimed the 
man, but that each was struggling for the mastery. 

Prior Handcock knew nothing of physiognomy, 
and regarded his favourite as a man of weak health, 
at present overworked. The kind but injudicious 
man knew his pupil not one jot, and prescribed for 
him the worst of all things — rest. When working 
hard and his powerful mind interested, Martin’s 
nobler passions lent weight to the intellect, and gave 
to it a daring most like genius. When at rest and 
the mind relaxed, the baser passions were liable to 
seize the imagination and fill it with unholy thoughts, 
and change the genius to the fiend. 

One power, however, the Prior possessed — the 
power of kindness. Of his inner self and the recent 
interview the monk did not tell the Prior ; but with 
these exceptions, all other matters w T ere discussed 
between them. 

Oh, terrible pity that all was not told! Unutter- 
able woe that now, when not too late, Handcock 
was not enabled to guide aright the passionate man 
to ward off temptation ! Many a time was the 
neophyte minded to tell all, and almost did so after 
his interview with the woman in St. Catherine’s. 
There was then not much to tell. Mere curiosity 
begot the fault which Martin was too weak to con- 
fess. Formerly the Prior’s kindness to his pupil 
might have lent him greater strength, but infinitely 
more was now required. A new and great tempta- 
tion now assailed the man. The good resolve put 


26 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


off became more difficult to accomplish. The terrible 
passions had now begun to gain the upper hand, and 
were pointing out the pleasing downward course that 
ends in sin. 

The one bright episode in this narrative of woe 
may now be recorded. The Prior's kindness met 
with some return. Martin grew to revere him much 
in the light in which a son regards his father, and it 
was at this time that the Prior questioned him on 
his former life before entering the monastic career. 

A tale of poverty it was — of a boyhood without 
parents ; but in his youth a change occurred. A 
man of high position caused him to be educated, 
and, unknown to him, doled out sufficient money for 
the purpose. Who this benefactor was he had no 
.suspicion, but was told that when he should be old 
enough he was to become a monk at Holy 
Trinity, Aldgate. 

This was all he knew concerning himself, and of 
his relations one only did he remember — a sister, a 
little older than himself, whom he had not seen for 
years. 

The Prior and Martin took long rambles together, 
and, notwithstanding the disparity in years and 
station, entertained for one another a sincere regard. 
But, with many and varied duties to attend to, 
Handcock did not see his pupil more than once or 
twice a week. By his orders Martin was put on the 
sick list, and spent the greater part of his time 
alone, and having been now over a year in the 
monastery, was allowed greater freedom, and could go 


PASSION EXULTANT ! 


27 


much where he liked, provided he was present at 
the various services of the church. And so the 
time passed on until he again met the dark woman 
who had given him the scroll, in the same place — 
St. Catherine Cree, and this time alone. The scroll 
was produced, and Martin, flattening it out, read the 
contents and asked the woman what she had to tell 
him. She temporised, and the keen intelligence of 
the monk perceived that other designs occupied her 
mind— another object had prompted her to seek the 
interview. Had he left on discovering this, the 
terrible events which this narrative chronicles would 
never have happened ; but he lingered, and looked 
at the woman who had dared so to deceive him. 

This was the climax in Martin’s life; the conflicting 
emotions which raged his system, the mighty passions 
which swayed the mind, and prompted it now to 
good and now to evil, put forth all their opposing 
strength ; virtue and vice engaged their forces in a 
final, fierce fight, from which one or other would 
emerge the victor. Formerly the conflict had been 
waged in the imagination only; no great visible 
temptation had assailed the senses. Now came that 
mighty strain on the will, which the mind had 
foreseen and knew to be inevitable. 

The woman had intended to keep up an interest 
in the scroll, but had failed, and faltered under the 
keen, penetrating gaze of the monk, and, with that 
subtle cleverness which often accompanies a de- 
praved but high intelligence, realised that the time 
was ripe to show her hand and appeal directly to 


28 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


the passions of the man. Like on the first occasion 
of their meeting, she threw off her head-gear and 
returned Martin’s passionate gaze. That look was 
all that passed between them, but it told of guilty 
passion, of a secret sympathy, of the success of her 
scheme to the woman, and of the victory of evil in 
the man. 


29 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE CELL. 

Had the prying curiosity of the people been able to 
penetrate into the house occupied by their silent 
neighbour in the evening of the event just recorded, 
they would have seen her in evident grief; tears, 
perhaps of compunction, stole down her cheeks, and 
sorrow at the guilty part she was playing was no 
doubt felt by the woman. Could she now in safety 
have abandoned her wicked course she would have 
done so, but the villain who hired her was not to be 
baulked of his purpose. Whatever her reflections 
were she was not long allowed to pursue them 
undisturbed ; the door of her room was opened, and, 
without any further introduction, her employer 
entered. Angry words passed between them; the 
woman wished to retire from the hateful plot, but 
the man was obdurate, threatened her with every 
punishment if she deserted the cause, and finally 
gained the upper hand. Being reassured of her 
allegiance, he ordered her, when quite certain of 
Martin’s love, to make him leave the monastery and 
for her to be seen in his company at certain public 
places, which were specified, and finally to leave 
him, it being the object of the man to bi mg disgrace 
upon the monastery. 


30 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


The victory of evil passion in Martin’s strong 
character at first deadened in him every right 
feeling, and led him to gloat over the thought of 
leaving the monastery, and eloping with the woman 
whom he loved with a fierceness only possible in a 
man of such passionate temperament. He longed 
for the week to pass and the day to arrive when he 
was again to meet her. Should he achieve his pur- 
pose then, and quit the monastery and the restraint 
now so loathsome to him ? The conflicting emotion 
being silenced, outwardly Martin was calm, greatly 
to the delight of the Prior, who thought his pupil 
had recovered from an illness, and considering that 
the time had now come for him to resume his duties, 
placed him under the instruction of Father Anselm. 
This was the oldest monk in the monastery, and 
by far the ablest. With a kindness equalling that 
of Handcock, he possessed a keen intellect, a great 
knowledge of character, and a vast experience of the 
world. Had Martin been placed under this holy 
father from the first, it is probable that his difficul- 
ties and temptations would have been foreseen and 
danger warded off ; but now it was too late ; a fiend 
possessed his soul and held it with an iron grip. 

That sense of quiet following a decision even to 
sin, which Martin had felt, left him under the saint- 
like eloquence and charity of Father Anselm. This 
holy man discovered the peculiar temperament of 
his pupil, and with a fire and genius equal to 
Martin’s, and a tact gained from experience and 
knowl dge of the passions of men, he poured forth 


THE CELL 


31 


arguments and exhortations of the right kind to 
appeal to such a temperament. The result of this 
to Martin was curious ; his determination to sin did 
not leave him, but the thought of it brought untold 
misery. In a few days he would meet the object 
of his passion in the great church at the hour put 
down for him to make his solitary prayer. Would 
he fly with her and break his priestly vow ? Would 
he bring such scandal on the monastery ? Was that 
to be the return for all the kindness shown him ? 
Yes. Again, did he realise the greatness of the sin ? 
Was his faith still active? Was he to be the one 
black sheep in all the fold? Again, yes! Oh! 
mighty passion, like the torrent, regardless of all 
obstacles, ignoring all attempts to say thy headlong 
course ; oh, fierce, all-consuming fire ! 

But the eloquent words of the aged priest went 
home, and though they did not cure Martin of his 
sinful desire, produced a misery so intense that he 
feared his mind would get unhinged. Four more 
days of suspense ! He longed for the time to pass, 
yet would he fain put off the day. 

One evening the monk fell ill, a burning sensation 
seized him, his brain seemed on fire, his mind con- 
jured up strange and awful scenes, Hell seemed to 
open beneath him, and a laughing fiend to stretch 
out its bony arm to seize him. Was his reason 
giving way? His excitement became intense, he 
beat his brow and clenched his teeth, then, as if 
suddenly struck with an idea, rushed to the church 
and paced the lofty nave and aisles, muttering 


32 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


curious, incoherent words. In his abstraction he 
did not notice the Prior, and started when that kind 
man, who had been disturbed at his devotion by 
Martin’s strange manner, came up to him and tried 
to soothe him and bid him go to rest. 

That evening the Prior asked Martin to remain 
alone in his cell for a day or two, and arranged for a 
man to supply him with his wants. 

Cooped up in that little cell the monk grew worse. 
For hours together he paced the room like a caged 
beast, and as each day began to wane, a look of 
exultation, of fiendish delight overspread his counten- 
ance. The nights brought him no rest ; he did not 
cease his wanderings. He dared not sleep ; his object 
was to count the hours, and time his appearance in 
the church. He did not eat, and the feeble frame 
got wasted ; nor did he sleep, and the mind got no 
rest. The raging passion told on the wasted frame 
and the excited brain — the man was going mad ! 
He knew it, but it gave him no concern. One 
anxiety only did he feel — to meet the woman at the 
hour and place appointed. 

The monk had method in his madness, and knew 
that if seen before that fatal hour his purpose 
would be foiled. Those wild eyes, that excited 
expression, that wasted frame, spoke of insanity. 
Martin felt it, and longed for his time to come. 
Hour after hour he paced the room until the end of 
the day before that appointed for the meeting, when a 
strange thing happened. Peering out into the dark 
corridor to see if he was unobserved, and waiting 


THE CELL. 


33 


until the deathlike stillness convinced him that no one 
was about, he softly closed his cell and sped down the 
corridois and flights of steps. The monk was absent 
for about an hour, and when he returned his eyes 
gleamed with a savage and a mad delight. What 
was that hidden object which gave him so much 
concern ? Why did he stay his wanderings to gaze 
at it with such a fierce interest ? 


34 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE TRAGEDIES AT THE HIGH ALTAR. 

Again the gabled house, and the man and woman in 
earnest conversation. This time they managed to 
elude the watchers, and depart entirely unobserved. 
They took the same direction as before, and as they 
approached the monastery the clock of the great 
tower chimed the half hour after five, full an hour too 
soon, but they decided to go on and wait at their 
respective posts. The man had at first decided to 
leave before the woman’s meeting with the monk, 
but changed his mind, and resolved to be at hearing 
distance, in case the woman faltered in her design. 
He asked her if she was quite assured she could 
induce the monk to leave, and her answer satisfying 
him, the pair arrived at the entrance of the church 
and peeped in There were no worshippers ; all was 
still, and the man looked about the church for a 
place from which he could watch the interview and 
be himself unseen. He found what he wanted in 
the nave, behind the monument to the first Lord 
Mayor of London, a long distance off from the place 
of meeting in the chancel, but the only spot which 
suited his purpose. 

The hour of waiting seemed interminable ; the 
woman paced the church with anxious steps, and 
the autumn day began to wane. Darker and darker 
the church became, great shadows were cast over 


THE TRAGEDIES AT THE HIGH ALTAR. 


35 


the broad nave, the size of the building seemed 
doubled, and one part of it began to be enveloped in 
deep gloom. The woman turned with a shuddering 
glance from the dark corner, walked up the nave, 
ever and anon glancing behind her to see that the 
black shadow was not following her. She began to 
tremble with nervousness, and approached the 
chancel, which was bathed in light from the rays of 
the setting sun. 

Stay ! What was the crimson stain on yon altar 
step? Horror! It seemed to move ! It must be blood ! 
Nearer and nearer it came ! It almost approached 
her ! A deep but brilliant red, at first a spot, it now 
increased till it seemed to flood the chancel with its 
sanguinary hue ; then it died away again, smaller 
and smaller, till it lingered longest on the chancel 
steps. Why did it not leave, that stain of crim- 
son ? The sun gradually left the rich stained glass 
windows. Darker and darker the church became, 
but the woman thought she saw that crimson stain 
long after the black shadows had enveloped the 
great building. 

Would the hour for meeting never come ? How 
long was she to remain in that dark and eerie place ? 
Stay ! What was that ? The flickering glimmer of 
a little candle was approaching the choir from the 
monastery. It became more and more distinct ; a 
figure entered the church, holding a taper. Could 
that be Martin? The face was wan and ghastly, 
the black hair w T as dishevelled, a raven lock fell 
over the face and made its ashen paleness more 


36 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


apparent. The monk held out the light at arm’s 
length and peered into the church, and the woman 
was terrified at the ghastly figure. The face looked 
like that of a fiend, not a man ; the eyes gleamed 
with a fierce and unnatural light, and seemed burst- 
ing from their sockets ; the sleeves had fallen from 
the bony arm, which looked like that of a skeleton. 
What was that tiny bright speck just appearing 
under the folds of his habit ? She could not 
approach the ghost, and crept behind a pillar of the 
nave. The figure in the choir turned round and 
knelt down as if in attitude of prayer, and a gust of 
wind extinguished the taper, which the monk let 
drop with a thud. 

The church was in total darkness, save for the 
little altar lamp, which but intensified the gloom. 
One, two, perhaps three, minutes passed, when a 
curious pale and silvery ray lit up a portion of the 
choir; the moon had risen to witness the fell and 
dreadful deed. The woman trembled, but felt that 
now she must perform her task. Her eyes seemed 
to swim ; she could scarcely guide aright her steps ; 
but slowly and silently she approached the kneeling 
figure, and touched with her right hand the habit of 
the monk. 

The man in the nave leant forward and watched 
the scene with terrible earnestness. How suddenly 
the monk had turned round ! What was that bright 
object which he held aloft twice, thrice? Good 
God, was murder being done? The man rushed 
forward, but, alas ! too late. The monk had seized 


THE TRAGEDIES AT THE HIGH ALTAR. 


37 


the woman by the throat ; a dozen times he gashed 
the face ; the knife descended with lightning rapidity 
— pools of blood deluged the altar steps. With a 
demon’s fury the monk then threw down the corpse 
and trod it out of very recognition. He spat upon 
the mutilated face, and, with his remaining strength, 
he ripped the body open and cast the entrails round 
about. 

The man who had watched this scene of carnage 
now feared to approach, for the murderer held up his 
blood-stained knife in triumph, and, in his madness, 
called upon his patron saint and claimed a benedic- 
tion for his deed. Exhausted, the monk now threw 
himself upon his knees, and mumbled a confused 
medley of prayer and imprecation. Then he got up 
and faced the villain whose scheme had been his 
ruin. His thirst for blood now whetted, the monk 
would have killed the man, but the latter stepped aside 
and, pointing to the corpse, bade Martin look more 
closely at his victim. The woman’s mouth was 
open, the moonlight streamed through the window, 
and Martin looked intently at the corpse. Maniac as 
he was, he saw that the roof of the mouth was gone. 
The striking resemblance of the woman to himself 
he remembered ; an inspiration suddenly dawned 
upon him ; he looked inquiringly at the ruffian 
opposite, and read in his countenance a confirmation 
of the awful thought. An agonising cry escaped his 
lips, he seized the knife, and plunged it deep into his 
heart, and fell a corpse upon his murdered sister. 


38 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


CHAPTER VI. 

ANNIHILATION OF THE MONASTERY. 

The good monks of Holy Trinity, Aldgate, were 
regular in all their duties, and punctually at nine 
o’clock they betook themselves in solemn conclave 
to the church, to offer prayers that God might 
watch over the great city and protect it from disaster. 
They carried lighted candles and, preceded by the 
Prior, arranged themselves in order for procession, 
and marched towards the transept door of their 
splendid abbey church, chanting the ancient Latin 
hymn, 

Je-su dulcis me-mo-ri-a. 

Ye guardian spirits, protect the holy men from 
the awful sight, the murder, the suicide, the 
desecrated church, the scene of deeds which had 
perverted the hallowed building to a place accursed 
by God and man ! 

* * * * * * 

The monks shut up their church and kept the 
fearful deeds secret, but no happiness or rest did 
they know after that fatal night. Ghosts of the 


ANNIHILATION OF THE MONASTERY. 


39 


murdered dead haunted them ; they longed to leave 
the accursed spot, and atone for the sin of their 
wicked brother. 

And the man whose schemes had worked the 
misery, Sir Thomas Audley, afterwards to be Lord 
High Chancellor, what was his next step ? Threats 
were sent to the Prior, threats of instant exposure, 
if he did not surrender the monastery to the king. 
The poor weak Prior, beside himself with grief and 
misery, consulted the monks, and they counselled 
him to hold out, and for some time there was a sort 
of interregnum. All traces of the murders were 
apparently obliterated ; and the monks attempted 
to burn out the stain of blood, but finding this 
impossible, they hollowed out the stone. This done, 
they sent an emissary to the Pope, and in resignation 
awaited for the interdict. But whether their 
messenger was intercepted or whether the interdict 
was sent is not known ; certainly it was never placed 
upon the buildings. 

Sir Thomas Audley informed the king of the 
murders which had taken place, which he pretended 
to have unexpectedly discovered, and the king, glad 
of an opportunity of repaying Sir Thomas for the 
salary owed to him as Speaker of the House of 
Commons, gave the Koyal permission for the sup- 
pression, provided Audley could by threats induce 
the Prior to make a show of giving up his charge. 

Audley called in Thomas Cromwell, and the two 
sent another message to the Prior, containing 
renewed threats that if the monastery were not 


40 


THE CUESE UPON MITEE SQUAEE. 


delivered to the king, all the ghastly particulars of 
the murder and suicide would be made known to 
the people of the city. The Prior and monks now 
found it impossible to hold out longer, and gave up 
the splendid time-honoured church and monastic 
buildings to the king, under a trifling pretext which 
Audley had invented and forced upon them. 

It is but fair to Henry VIII. and Cromwell to 
mention that they were ignorant of Audley’s in- 
famous plot, and had no notion that it was owing 
to his action that the crimes had taken place. 

The monastery was suppressed, the monks turned 
out, and somewhat later Audley was placed in 
possession of the building. The poor Prior’s troubles 
were even now not yet over. A letter of his is extant 
in which he complains that no portion of the seven 
hundred pounds a year promised to him after the 
suppression had been received ; but how he provided 
for himself and the monks is not known. 

Audley attempted to sell the buildings, but was 
not able to do so, an'd at last he ruthlessly destroyed 
the magnificent architectural pile ; and, with the 
exception of a few arches, left no trace of the church 
and monastic institution of Holy Trinity, Aldgate. 

Both during the process of destruction and many 
years after that event, no one, unless obliged, would 
approach the spot where the high altar and chancel 
of the church had once existed. It was rumoured 
that every night, between the hour of twelve and 
one, a dark young man appeared in the garb of a 
monk and always pointed to a spot, and uttered 


ANNIHILATION OF THE MONASTERY. 


41 


strange prophecies of terrible events that must occur 
there. The people got wind of the story of Martin 
and his sister, and for many generations the spot 
was considered cursed. 

Woe to anyone who would live on that spot ; woe 
to him who remained there at night and out of 
reach of help ! 


END OF BOOK I. 


43 


BOOK II. 

TWO CENTURIES AFTER. 

CHAPTER I. 

KUMOUKS OF THE APPAEITION. 

“ ~1 I OW comes it, man, that thy friend Jack 
-J — L Walton is never with thee now ? The 
tavern misses him ; his cheery face was always 
welcome ; and when I think of it, thou art thyseli 
Out sorry company, nowadays. ” 

The jolly, red-faced host of the “ Mitre ” liked not 
dull and quiet guest ; good food and drink, he used 
to say, were wasted when they loosened not th^ 
tongue in anecdote or song. 

“ Jack has gone, and I’ll soon follow him,” was 
the dismal answer. 

“ Ye mean to tell me that Jack the fearless, the 
mighty toper, the jolly drunken rogue, has turned 
craven and thrown up his employ ? ” 

“ Landlord, ye have hit it; the others are going 
too, and if ye take my advice ye’ll shift the ‘ Mitre ’ 
to another place.” 

“Fool, take thy womanish fears q others; the 


44 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


‘ Mitre ’ and Will Eailton will not shift for Papist 
ghost or other foolery ; but hark thee, Grale, a week 
to-morrow I shall prepare a feast, to which ten or 
twelve young bloods from town will come. You, 
Grale, and your fellow-workers at the stable, have 
been my friends ; help me now prepare this feast, 
and lend me your daughters as waiting-maids ; my 
own lass, Rose, who will be here of course, will look 
after the others, and see that no harm comes to 
them.” 

Grale promised to send his daughter to help pre- 
pare the feast, and asked his host in what manner 
he meant to amuse his wild young guests. 

“ Ay, that is what I wished to tell you. ,Ye 
know yon spot, beneath the arch, where the Papist 
monk killed his sister and himself. I shall take 
them there, and you, Grale, or some such other fool 
who believes the story, must recount it to them ; by 
which time I shall have primed them well with 
wine. When it is quite dark, they shall all move 
out, terrible noises shall be made, and as all are 
waiting for the ghost, my daughter Rose shall spring 
into their midst, which, if I mistake not, will make 
them merry and contented with their visit. 

Grale looked serious, and thought no good would 
come from tampering with the ghost, but knew of 
old that Railton of the “ Mitre” regarded the story 
of the monk as a myth, and laughed at those who 
differed from him. Grale paid for his little meal, 
and went out into the courtyard in front of the 
tavern and rejoined his companions. These men 


RUMOURS OF THE APPARITION. 


45 


worked in the stables which were built up with the 
few rounded arches and Norman columns, relics of 
the once glorious church of Holy Trinity. 

The spot reported to be haunted was just outside 
the stable, furthest from the court, exactly where 
the altar steps of the church had formerly existed. 
The ghost was said to appear on this spot between 
twelve and one at night on certain days, and mutter 
strange warnings, and in other ways disport himself 
as is the wont of ghosts. All the people in the 
district firmly believed the story, except the jolly host 
of the “ Mitre”; but there were diverse opinions as to 
the day or days of the appearance, some contending 
that they had seen it on Sunday nights, others — the 
majority — on Mondays. 

Now though Eailton was the only sceptic, and 
thus formed a party by himself, the other people of 
Aldgate Ward formed themselves into two factions — 
those who believed in the Monday appearance — the 
men engaged in the stables and a few others — and 
those who swore that Sunday was the ghost’s night. 

A wag from town, when told of the affair, had 
declared that the majority were Sunday believers, 
because, being virulent anti-Papists, they wished to 
think the monk had broken the Sabbath law, the 
wag adding that this fact exercised the people’s 
minds more than the murder, which they held to be 
an ordinary occurrence with the priests of old. 

However this may be, party feeling ran high, and 
Railton was wont to declare the Monday folk would 
sooner believe in no ghost at all than that it should 


46 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


appear on Sunday, and vice versa. But he was wrong ; 
there were solid foundations for a belief, though 
many might mistake the day, and in after years the 
host himself believed the story, and held that the 
fatal spot was indeed accursed by God and man. 

“Jack gone! Then I suppose he has seen the 
monk,” a brother worker said to Grale. 

The latter nodded, and added, “ Jack lost his wife 
a week arter he saw the cursed Papist.” 

“ But I’ve seen ’im, and nothing’s come to me/' 
remarked several of the stablemen, and Grale, who 
was the oldest and most learned in the ghost’s ways, 
turned and said — 

“ You may ’a seed ’im, so ’ave I ; but that is not 
the point. The man who , ivith a wicked purpose or 
to jeer at the monk , stands upon that spot between 
the hours of twelve and one and sees the ghost , will 
surely come to harm.” The old fellow was impres- 
sive ; the terms of the curse were not stated in his 
own words, but were a formula well known to many 
of the inhabitants of the Ward of Aldgate. 

Certainly it was no joking matter, given the con- 
ditions which Grale mentioned. A curse did alight 
on the unlucky person who approached the spot with 
a criminal or jeering intention. The curse did not 
necessarily end in death, another misfortune might 
happen to the offender; but many and foul were 
the crimes which this very spot had witnessed from 
the year 1530 to the; date in which this second 
narrative is cast. 


47 


CHAPTER II. 

MERRY-MAKING AT THE “ MITRE ” TAVERN. 

Great preparations were made at the old Mitre 
Tavern for the r dvent of RailtoiTs young gallants. 
Food and wine, the best that could be procured, were 
in readiness. The buxom daughters of the stable- 
men donned their prettiest gowns, and looked then 
brightest for the occasion. Will Railton, Grale, and 
others were in attendance, all primed to their duties, 
and anxious that the meeting should pass off merrily. 

The guests were slow in arriving — not one came 
in time. Railton remembered with a pang that the 
choicest dishes would be spoilt ; a punctual man him- 
self, he had timed the cooking to be ready to the 
minute, and here it was full half an hour behind the 
hour arranged. 

What with the scowlings of the cook, the kitchen- 
maids, and the fair waitresses, he did not know, so 
he said, which was in the worse state — the burnt-up 
capons or his own head. 

But at last they came, and all together ; a 
dissipated crew, richly dressed ; men born in a good 
position, nobles, soldiers, and the like, polished in 
manners (when sober), irregular in their habits, they 
honoured the “ Mitre ” with their presence just 


48 


THE CUBSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


once a year, in return for services Eailton rendered 
them in their own part of the town. It may seem 
strange that they should travel to what was, even in 
those days, an unfashionable district ; but Eailton 
was a man of weight, a famous cook, a maker of 
good punch ; a man the gallants liked to please, and 
secure for their own costly entertainments. Besides 
which, Eailton was a man of wit, and always 
prepared some amusement for his guests. Their 
jaded palates liked his rich cheer, their worn-out 
sense of fun was tickled with his sparkling wit ; they 
enjoyed their day, and came again when asked. 

These were days of hard drinking ; not in the 
sense in which this degenerate nineteenth century 
understands the term. Drinking was then an art, 
confined principally to the rich. Drink did not 
claim its thousand gutter- victims, as at present. The 
poor got drunk, of course, but not to the same extent 
as now. 

The gentlemen of those days were careful as to 
the quality of the wine they drank, but not the 
quantity ; they vowed a man ill-bred who did not 
take his share. But just as they would not cross 
swords with a man of blood inferior to their own, 
and regarded duelling as a pastime only of the 
“gentle,” so also did they consider drunkenness 
a privilege peculiar to themselves. 

They sent their servants to the lock-up for a 
tipsy peccadillo, they drew long pious faces at the 
luxury of monks, and fell beneath their tables 
every day, which became them as true gentlemen. 


MERRY-MAKING AT THE “ MITRE ” TAVERN. 49 


A merry, worthless set that was which Railton 
brought together : Lord Wareham, member of the 
Mohawk gang; Sir Jocelyn Cholmondeley ; Jack 
Mounteagle, Percy Poins, and others, all in the 
fastest, loudest set. They ate their fill, drank deep, 
and joked the pretty waiting lasses. 

Hilarity was the order of the day. The jokes 
went round with every dish, and the serving-maids, 
though teased to death, declared it bright and merry 
f in ! 

When to eat more was impossible, Railton rose 
and bade them fill their glasses, while he proposed 
a toast with a song : 

Here’s a health unto His Majesty ; 

With a f al lal la ! 

Damnation to his enemies ; 

With a fal lal la ! 

And he who would not pledge this health, 

I wish him neither wit nor wealth, 

Nor yet a rope to hang himself ; 

With a fal lal la ! 

Jacobites they were, one and all. And how T lustily 
all joined in the rowdy fal lal la, and how the 
elements of seriousness and fun intermingled in the 
then popular ditty ! 

When quiet was resumed, the host again rose, 
and with a merry twinkle in his eye, drew himself 
up, and in a mocking-serious tone exclaimed — 

44 Gentlemen, have ye heard of our ghost in yonder 
part of town? I see ye have, net’s drink to him. 


50 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


Monk Martin, Papist priest, here’s to your health ; 
mind come and visit us to-night.” 

Grale and the other stablemen stood aghast at 
such temerity, and Railton, seeing their fears, pro- 
claimed them with derision to the company. A 
shout of laughter greeted this. The gallants had 
drunk deeply, and were getting quite uproarious. 
Lord Wareham now got upon his legs — 

“Will Railton, you have proposed a toast; let 
me propose another: ‘ Drink, gallants all, to buxom 
Mistress Rose, and death to him who says she’s not 
the prettiest maid in Aldgate.’ ” 

This was followed by great applause, and Railton, 
who studied well the pleasures of his guests, pro- 
posed a dance, and removed the tables and chairs 
for that purpose. 

The young men who, a few minutes ago, appeared 
half tipsy, threw off their rowdy gaiety, and went 
through the various evolutions of the dance with 
the utmost ease and grace. The untaught damsels 
looked at their elegant partners with evident admira- 
tion, and tried to imitate their courtly manners. 

Mistress Rose being the prettiest maiden present, 
and the daughter of the host, of course came in for 
the greatest attention, and these jaded men, who 
had ceased to care for dancing with the well-taught 
damsels of their own class, eagerly sought Railton’s 
daughter for a partner, and rivalled one another in 
their gallant speeches to her. 

“ Host Railton, dost thou think the Papist Martin 
will obey thy summons?” 


MERRY-MAKING AT THE “ MITRE ” TAVERN . 51 


“ Thou’dst better ask the stablemen, my friend. 
Here, Grale, will the ghost appear to-day on yonder 
spot? ” 

“ Many ha’ seen Monk Martin, but we canna tell 
for certain when he comes. But the man who , with 
a wicked purpose, or to jeer at the monk , stands upon 
the spot , between the hours of twelve and one and sees 
the ghost , will surely come to harm." 

“ Tut, tut, man, stop that silly jargon. Tell 
us, if thou canst, whether Martin will appear or 
not? ” 

Grale feared the vengeance of the ghost, and knew 
what ill had come to those who jeered and disbelieved 
its appearance. 

“ Noble gallants, listen not to Master Bailton’s 
gibes ! Do not, I pray thee, visit yonder spot.” 

The guests laughed loud and long at the old man’s 
fears, and began to pester him with ridicule. 

“ Look. Grale, there is the monk behind thee. 
Methinks that Master Grale had better don the cowl. 
Turn Papist, man, and please the ghost, and save 
thyself from danger.” 

‘‘Art thou a Sunday or Monday believer, Grale ? 
Prophesy ; tell on which of us will come the 
curse ? ” 

The old man was grave and silent ; he did not mind 
the ridicule, and feared a reckoning would come to 
such misplaced and sacrilegious mirth. 

“ Thou dost not answer, man. Did Martin break 
the Sabbath law ? ” 

“I must tell the parson of thee, Grale. Thou 


52 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


won’t accuse a ghost of crime. Fie, thou call’st 
thyself a Protestant.” 

On another occasion pretty Mistress Rose would 
have thought such conversation dangerous, but 
surrounded with such gay and noble gallants, she 
felt secure and happy. 

By-and-by they adjourned to another room, 
where Railton had prepared a bowl of steaming 
punch. 

The waiting-maids now sat down to table with 
the others, and more toasts and pretty speeches 
followed. 

Rose sat between Lord Wareham and Poins, and 
looked from one to the other with divided admira- 
tion 

“ They ought to send thee, Mistress Rose, 
to seek the ghost. Mine host, Will Railton, 
what say you ? Shall thy daughter go and find 
the monk?” 

Poins followed his lordship in his little jest. “ If 
Martin sees thy buxom face and cherry lips and 
answers not thy call, then, odsbodikins, if he’s 
Papist priest or no, a ghost he is, and I’ll believe 
the story.” 

Railton answered : “ Methinks if the myth which 
goes the round be true, the monk will have no more 
to do with womankind ; but still, as it seems to please 
your wit, the damsel shall betake her to the spot, and 
try to exorcise the spirit.” 

The hour was now getting late, and Rose, much to 
her regret, left with the stableman to find the 


MERE Y- MAKING AT THE “ MITRE ” TAVERN. 53 

accursed spot. Once away from the scene of revelry, 
her heart misgave her. What was she doing? 
Going to stand on that awful site to jeer at the 
avenging spirit ? No, she could not do it; look at 
the fate which had befallen so many fearless 
sceptics ! 

She spoke with Grale, and the two determined to 
hide in an outhouse, and see what happened. They 
had left the tavern very late, and the night, though 
dark, was then quite fine. 

It was late in autumn, but not cold, and as the 
hour of midnight came a close feeling was notice- 
able in the air ; the sky became dark ; a storm had 
been presaged for this very night. A disturbing, 
fierce wind now suddenly sprang up ; it shook the 
very stables ; the moaning, soughing noise increased ; 
a mighty gust of wind swept past the ancient 
Norman arches, and seemed to make them totter. 

“ Oh, leave me, Grale, and go and warn yon 
gallants of the night ! ” 

“ No, Mistress Eose ; I stir not from this place. 
The monk is coming. Look not on the fatal spot ! 
Oh, save us from the sight ! I did not jeer thee, 
priest. Send not the curse upon my aged 
head.” 

“ Then I will go to father, and tell him not to 
come.” 

“ Thou shalt not do so, damsel. Hark! Listen 
to the storm ! A deed of vengeance is at hand. 
Look, maiden, at the fierce and sudden flames ! The 
heavens are on fire ! ” 


54 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


The old man held the girl in a tight grip, and 
would not let her move. She tried to force herself 
away, but was not able, and Grale at last persuaded 
her that Eailton and his guests were not likely to 
leave the tavern in such a fearful storm. 


55 


CHAPTER III. 

THE GHOST AVENGED. 

After the departure of the maids, the men drained 
the bowl of punch, and Railton brewed them another. 
They soon began to show evidence that the second 
bowl was too much for them ; one dropped beneath 
the table, another fell asleep, but Lord Wareham and 
Poins emptied the bowl, and were still comparatively 
sober. 

Railton went to the window and looked out. 

“ It’s raining, my lord, and I see a storm’s 
approaching. Had we not better wait a little, until 
the weather clears ? ” 

“No, no, unless the ghost does not appear in 
storms. What weather does he generally bring ? ” 

“ Well, my lord, they say the monk appears in a 
flash of lightning, and if that be true he might be 
appearing in a dozen places now.” 

Poins woke up the others, not in a very gentle 
manner, and said — 

“ A little cold water will do us all no harm, and if 
you are ready, Railton, lead the way while I help 
these gallants to move.” 

The men were all put upon their legs. Lord 
Wareham, Poins, and Railton helped them along; 


56 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


and when they got outside the pouring rain soon' 
sobered them. 

Two centuries had indeed altered this part of 
Aldgate ward. The monastic buildings and church 
of Holy Trinity had all gone, except for a few 
rounded arches and huge Norman pillars which, as 
before mentioned, had been partly roofed over as 
stables. Near these was the old “ Mitre ” tavern, 
which looked on to a court ; and close by was an 
ugly red brick church, St. James’, surrounded with 
a small churchyard. The scene of Monk Martin’s 
crimes was just outside the stables — a large slab of 
stone, and near to a remnant of a decorated arch 
and wall of the old chancel. 

The men shivered from the wet, and Poins ex- 
claimed, “ The monk must have gone to the brimstone 
pit to seek the earth on such a rainy night.” 

But both gallants and host soon ceased their 
prattling ; it was evident that the worst of the storm 
had yet to come. The thunder grew louder and 
louder, the rain came down in torrents, and forked 
flames were shooting from the heavens, and lit up 
the ruins of the once stately church. 

Nearer and nearer came the storm, when a terrific 
peal of thunder made the bravest of them quail. 
Now was the storm right above them, and raging 
with ungovernable fury. The wind howled like a 
fierce beast in pain, the heavens seemed to open and 
cast down streams of liquid fire. Listen to that 
fearful crash ! A mighty battle was being waged 
above ; or was an angry God hurling His anathemas 


THE GHOST AVENGED. 


57 


at the sins and crimes of men ? Could the elements 
increase their fury ? The liquid flames seemed to 
unite and concentrate their force ; they struck that 
fatal slab of stone, once, twice ; it seemed to dis- 
appear, and then a hellish cry — the pitch-black cloud 
seemed resting on that awful spot ! 

The men were almost dead with fear. What was 
yon cloud? Why did it not move? The tempest 
seemed to gather round it, the lightning struck at it 
a dozen times. It slowly lifts and utters a hollow, 
dreadful laugh. Is it ghost or fiend? It seems 
diminishing in size. Horror ! It assumes the 
shape of a man ! What is it that it holds aloft ? 
Again the lightning struck at it, and its ghastly head 
was seen. 

Another crash of thunder, and a naked arm appears, ' 
holding a blood-stained dagger. Oh, what is it that 
it strikes with such a demon fury ? Why that final, 
dreadful cry ? 

The spectre seemed approaching them; they shriek 
with terror, but cannot escape. Railton seizes two 
of them, and drags them from the spot. Why could 
he not take the others ? A dark and mighty mass is 
moving ; it splits into a thousand bits, it flies at them 
with fierce spite, it strikes and kills, and buries its 
disfigured slain ! 


58 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


CHAPTER IY. 

IN MOORFIELDS. 

“ I told ye all about Monk Martin’s ghost.” 

“ Yes, Grale. We know about the wicked monk.” 

“ Well, master, what think ye happened on the 
cursed spot not twenty hours ago? ” 

“ Tell us, Grale ; ye know we all believe the 
ghost.” 

The old man, with a look of triumph in his 
weather-beaten face, now got up and said— 

Ye know about the curse. The man who , with a 
wicked purpose , or to jeer at the monk , stands upon 
that spot ” 

“ Tut, Grale ; we know about the curse.” 

“ Well, masters, ye know Will Railton of the 
“ Mitre ” tavern, Aldgate. He asked a dozen 
gallants from yonder part of town. They came 
and made merry, and jeered at Martin’s ghost. I 
warned them not to do it, but ye know the sort of 
men. Well, in the middle of the storm Will Railton 
took them to the cursed spot. Ye also know that 
the man who , with a wicked ” 

“ Hurry on, friend Grale, we know all that.” 

“ Well, when the storm was at its worst they saw 
the ghost. They say he struck that ancient arch. 


IN MOORFIELDS. 


59 


It fell upon the gallants, and killed and buried ten 
of them.” 

This conversation took place in Moorfields, some 
distance from the tavern. Grale had left Aldgate 
and sought employ elsewhere. Will Railton, Lord 
Wareham, and Poins, the men who had escaped 
from the falling ruin, probably because they were 
the most sober, now believed in Monk Martin’s 
ghost. 

No more gallants were seen in the “ Mitre” 
tavern. Railton left, and took another inn, and 
vowed the spot indeed accursed ! 




END OF BOOK II. 








61 


BOOK III. 

THE “ YEAR OF GRACE,” 1888 . 

CHAPTER I. 

WHITECHAPEL ROAD BY DAY. 

I F a foreigner were now to visit this great metropolis 
with the object of studying it as a vast social 
problem, he would find it, broadly speaking, divided 
into three parts — the abode of wealth, the world’s 
mart, and the abode of poverty. 

Further, he would discover that the abode of 
wealth knows nothing of the abode of poverty, 
scarcely recognises its existence, and even tries to 
take from it the common name of London ; that 
the West would if it could ignore the East, and 
succeeds in suppressing all knowledge of the appear- 
ance, conditions of life, and difficulties of its unfortu- 
nate brother. 

If he hunted up old books, and was interested in 
archaeology, he would see that this used not to be. 
That wealth and poverty once built together, that 
the poor man could approach the rich, and that 
benefit resulted to the former from the contact. 


62 


THE CUESE UPON MITEE SQUAEE. 


That the rich, if unselfish, gave money to the poor 
to improve their dwellings, and if selfish tried to 
remove the eyesores, filth and crime, which existed 
so near to their own doors. 

He would discover that gradually, but more 
particularly lately, the rich divorced themselves 
from their poorer brethren, whose needs became 
neglected because unseen ; that the two went their 
separate ways, and drifted farther and farther apart, 
until at present they had almost forgotten one 
another’s existence. 

Then, probably, he would seek the rich, and 
discover to his surprise that they were not un- 
charitable, and were the most enterprising people in 
the world. He would remember to have seen them 
everywhere in all the poor streets and back slums of 
foreign cities. He would be told of their mighty 
grants to the poor of other countries, and their 
untold exertions to better the condition of the 
savage. He would hear them describe such and 
such a foreign city as poor and miserable, though 
they would not mention the far greater poverty and 
squalor of the East of London. 

If he went into society, he would be led to believe 
that the City bounded London in the East, that no 
one had ever been further in that direction than the 
Tower, that the vast outlying districts were never 
mentioned ; and if he stated that he had travelled in 
the unknown region, he would be frowned at as 
though guilty of a social fault. Did he force the 
subject of the East upon the denizens of the West, 


WHITECHAPEL ROiD BY DAY. 


63 


and remind them of their starving London brother, 
they would refuse to recognise the latter, and speak 
of him as if he were^a bastard. 

Then probably he would go and seek the people of 
the East, and try to find what they had done to 
deserve such wholesale neglect. He would find a 
people of good natural character, but hampered by 
their wretched dwellings, who found it hard to escape 
from their hideous surroundings ; who had waited 
long for the help that never was forthcoming, and 
paid too highly for the little which they got ; who did 
not know what pleasure meant, and had sunk into a 
deep despair. 

The ward of Aldgate has perhaps seen more 
changes than any other portion of the old metro- 
politan area. The site of the glorious church and 
monastic buildings of Holy Trinity, it was, in the 
time of the first narrative, distinguished for its 
architectural interest. Few, on gazing at the 
monastery in the earlier part of the -sixteenth 
century, could have thought it possible that so 
important and splendid a pile of buildings would 
in so short a time have almost wholly disappeared. 
Had it not been for the foul crimes which took place 
on the most sacred spot in the church of Holy 
Trinity, probably some part of that building would 
now exist and be used for the purposes of worship, 
as is the case with St. Bartholomew the Great, 
Smithfield, a church contemporaneous with Holy 
Trinity, though only about a fourth its size. But 
this was not to be; Monk Martin stamped the 


64 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


once hallowed edifice with the curse of Cain, and a 
revenging power decreed that it should be destroyed, 
and its site become the scene of other fearful crimes. 

Good men there always are, however, who carry 
on an unceasing struggle against evil, and in the 
reign of James I. an old Lord Mayor of London 
remembered with sorrow the destruction of Holy 
Trinity, and erected on a portion of its site the little 
church of St. James, Duke’s Place. St. James’s was 
indeed a poor affair in comparison with the former 
stately building, but we praise the spirit of the 
mayor who erected it, “as a Phoenix rising out of 
the old church,” and as the quaint old epitaph has 
it — 

“ He never ceased in industrie and care, 

Prom Euins to redeem the house of Praier.” 

St. James’s was destroyed in the eighteenth cen- 
tury ; it was, however, rebuilt, but finally disappeared 
about twenty years ago. 

The sketch shown on the opposite page was made 
when the rebuilt church had been destroyed. A 
small portion of the tower was still standing, sur- 
rounded by gravestones torn up and flung about in 
wild disorder. The church door was lying flat upon 
the ground, and bits of the pews were seen mixed 
up with fragments of window glass and brickbats. 
St. James’s Church stood over a part of the site of 
the nave of Holy Trinity. 

It is interesting to note that the whole neighbour- 
hood of the Tower to Aldgate once presented a sue- 


65 



DESTRUCTION. 




66 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


cession of religions houses established by our kings 
and queens. 

There was the great Hospital of St. Katherine, 
founded by Matilda, Queen of Stephen, and rebuilt 
by the good Philippa ; Eastminster Abbey, founded 
by Edward III. ; the Abbey of the Minnies, or 
Minories, founded by Eichard, King of the Bomans ; 
the Friary of the Holy Cross, Crutched Friars ; 
Millman’s Almshouses ; the Hermitage, in Aldgate ; 
the Papey for Aged Priests, close to Holy Trinity 
Priory ; and others. Where are all these now ? A 
dock covers the site of one — St. Katharine’s. A 
writer in the Gentleman- s Magazine in 1829, when 
this change was effected, pointed out that “ The 
worship of God was sacrificed to that of Mammon.” 
A huge railway runs over the site of another. A 
third is covered by giant warehouses, and the rest 
are built over with squalid tenements, where the 
poor are huddled together like beasts in a pen. 

There are a few — though very few — small institu- 
tions where religion is taught, and from which charity 
is spread, but 

“ what are they among so many ? ” 

The Whitechapel Eoad, in the “ year of grace ” 
1888, is a sort of portal to the filth and squalor of 
the East. Here begins that dreary region from which 
healthful and legitimate pleasures seem banished, 
and hard and ill-paid toil to be the lifelong fate of 
the inhabitants. Stand in the one broad thoroughfare, 
Whitechapel Eoad, and watch the constant stream 


WHITECHAPEL HOAD BY DAY. 


67 


of passers-by, and try and find a happy-looking 
face ! How dismal they all look; what a weight of 
care they seem to carry ! 

Early in the morning thousands pass along, to earn 
their daily bread. Half-starved clerks, with shiny 
coats, shabby hats, and pinched-in faces, presenting 
an appearance of beggarly gentility, that most 
pathetic sight of modem civilisation. Could we 
look into the tail-pockets of many of their black coats 
we should see, carefully ensconced with all privacy 
and care, a slice of bread which, with the addition 
of an apple, and eaten in some sly corner of the 
streets, frequently constitutes the dinner of these 
respected and worthy souls. 

And such as these, with successful tradesmen, 
form the aristocracy of a population as large as many 
a stately city ! 

Then, lower in the scale, we see the skilled 
mechanics, the most useful men of all ; but these 
look gloomy now the foreigners are stepping in 
and making rotten goods, getting employment by 
working longer hours for shorter pay. 

And then the factory hands, the lowest class, limp- 
ing to the badly -ventilated rooms to work, perhaps for 
fifteen hours for a wretched little pittance. Look at 
their wan faces, and thin, ill-fed bodies ; what a tale 
could they tell of misery and over-work ! 

And the vast army of the unemployed who loaf 
about the streets, stand outside public-houses, and 
level curses and obscene language at innocent 
passers-by ! 


68 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


Lastly, the girls. What are they like ? Are they 
the types of purity and sweetness that poets love to 
talk of ? — made by the Creator to guide the rougher 
natures of men unto the realm of light and love? Is 
this group of factory girls dressed up in ribbons and 
feathers of garish, screaming colours, shouting foul 
words, and laughing loud at every man they pass, 
likely to refine a home ? 

Is this other group of shabbily-dressed girls, with 
care and labour stamped upon their injured faces, 
likely to do mere than provide bare crusts for the 
little ones at home ? 

Yes, the Whitechapel Road is not a tempting place 
for a refined Londoner or foreigner, for it is a 
place where innocence no longer dwells ; where the 
young in years are old in knowledge, though, alas ! 
not of good, but of evil. 


69 


CHAPTER II. 

ALDGATE AT NIGHT. 

A Saturday evening in the East-end of London ! 
Who that has seen this sight can ever forget it ? 
Crowds upon crowds of dissolute men and women jog 
and jostle each other upon the pavements, and the 
roads are nearly impassable from the costers’ carts, 
containing every conceivable article of diet, apparel, 
and mechanical contrivance. The men shout out the 
rare value of their goods in exultant tones, as if to 
defy comparison with their rivals further on. 

How depressing is the scene ! But what is that 
singing we hear? Two big young girls with dis- 
hevelled hair, arm in arm, brush past us— excited by 
drink, screaming from lungs of iron the song last 
heard at the “ Cambridge ” hard by. 

As we walk on we pass a church with two huge 
lamps, vieing with the public-house lights in im- 
portance and attractiveness — and these reveal a 
picture by one of our greatest allegorical painters. 
See that dear young child awe-inspired, wonderingly 
staring at the mosaic which he cannot understand, 
but vaguely feels is telling of a life widely different 
from that of his own debased surroundings. 

But as the commemoration of the Resurrection 


70 


THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 


dawns upon us, the' streets suddenly become dark, 
for the bright lights are extinguished and the duped 
ones are ejected from the glittering palaces, some to 
stumlle and totter through innumerable alleys to 
what is called home, and others to lounge about with 
apparently no object in life. Life itself seems dead 
in them as they live. Half-starved many of them, 
and homeless ; without wishing it or wanting it, 
falling into sin — apparently unintentionally. How 
can we blame them ? Should we be better ? 

But let us hurry out of this pandemonium into 
purer air. We breathe once more as we approach 
Aldgate’s comparative quiet, and proceed westward. 
But why that whistle and hurrying of men to 
Mitre Square? Let us join them, and find out for 
ourselves. 

There with the aid of the policeman’s bulls-eye 
we see a sight so horrible that full particulars can- 
not be printed, but it is a counterpart of that which 
the monks of Holy Trinity saw when they arrived 
at that identical spot in the year 1530. 

Measure this spot as carefully as you will, and 
you will find that the piece of ground on which 
Catherine Eddowes lies is the exact point where the 
steps of the high altar of Holy Trinity existed, and 
where the catastrophe to the ten foolish gallants 
occurred two centuries later. 

Oh, w T hat can we do that these horrors may be 
stayed ? What CAN we do ? This is now the cry of 
public lamentation and woe ! 

Is the ghost of Monk Martin still hovering over 


ALDGATE AT NIGHT. 


71 


the scene of his crime ? Is the power of the Evil 
One still active ? or is it the vengeance of the 
Almighty that has cursed this spot with a curse so 
awful in its results that no age can with certainty 
evade punishment ? 

Who is there so bold as to say that the one bit of 
ground that has sustained the weight of countless 
lifeless bodies, during more than three centuries, is 
not accursed — that there is no Curse upon Mitre 
Square ? 

* * * * 

As the pen drops from the hand cramped with 
writing this fearful historical narrative of crime and 
retribution— the brain in very sympathy and over- 
wrought with recounting the ghastly tragedies of 
present and bygone times, seeks ease and rest in 
slumber, and in sleep the veil of the future is unfolded. 

What is that white-robed procession bearing tapers 
and singing the Miserere ? 0 blessed sight , behold a 

stream of Magdalens , with flowing hair and down- 
cast eyes , wimding their way , as did the forty monks 
of old , to the accursed spot. 

And as they approach it, carrying their precious 
ointment , behold a radiant lijht is in the air , reflect- 
ing a benediction on the spot b°low ; and I see aloft 
the choir of Holy Trinity as it was before the curse 
fell upon it , restored by the Divine Architect to its 
old beauty and splendour , the rounded arches and the 
carved stalls on either side the altar. Instead of 
monks 9 I see, through the wreath of incense , a choir 


72 THE CURSE UPON MITRE SQUARE. 

of angels waving their palm branches to the rhythm 
of the heavenly antiphon — so full of favoured promise 
to all wanderers in this troublesome world : — 

f “ THOUGH YOUR SINS BE AS SCARLET, 

THEY SHALL BE AS WHITE AS SNOW ! ” 


9 “ THOUGH THEY BE RED LIKE CRIMSON, 
THEY SHALL BE AS WOOL!” 


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113 More Words about the Bible 2fl 

BY E. LASSETER BYNNER 


100 Nimport, 2 Parts, each 15 

102 Tritons, 2 Parts, each 15 

BY THOMAS CAMPBELL 

526 Poems 20 

596 Dead Sea Fruit 20 

BY ROSA NOUCHETE CAREY 

660 For Lilias .20 

BY WM. CARLETON 

190 Willy Reilly 20 

BY THOMAS CARLYLE 

486 History of French Revolution, 2 

Parts, each 25 

494 Past and Present 20 

500 The Diamond Necklace ; and Mira- 

beau 20 

503 Chartism 20 

508 Sartor Resartus 20 

514 Early Kings of Norway 20 

520 Jean Paul Friedrich Richter 10 

522 Goethe, and Miscellaneous Essays. . .10 

525 Life of. Heyne 15 

528 Voltaire and Novalis 15 

541 Heroes, and Hero-Worship 20 

546 Signs of the Times 15 

550 German Literature 15 

561 Portraits of John Knox .15 

571 Count Cagliostro, etc 15 

578 Frederick the Great, Vol. I 2Q 

580 “ “ “ Vol. II 20 

591 “ “ “ Vol. Ill 20 

G10 “ “ * Vol. IV 20 

619 “ “ “ Vol. V 20 

622 “ “ “ Vol. VI 20 

626 “ “ “ Vol. VII 20 

628 “ “ “ Vol. VIII 20 

630 Life of John Sterling 20 

633 Latter-Day Pamphlets 20 

636 Life of Schiller 20 

613 Oliver Cromwell, Vol. 1 25 

646 “ “ Vol. II 25 

649 “ ' “ Vol. Ill 25 

652 Characteristics and other Essays. . . 15 
656 Corn Law Rhymes and other Essays. 15 
658 Baillie the Covenanter and other Es- 
says 15 

661 Dr. Francia and other Essays 15 

BY LEWIS CARROLL 

480 Alice’s Adventures 20 

481 Through the Looking-Glass 20 

BY “ CAVENDISH ” 

422 Cavendish Card Essays 15 

BY CERVANTES 

417 Don Quixote 30 

BY L. W. CHAMPNEY 

119 Bourbon Lilies 20 

BY VICTOR CHERBULIEZ 

4Ja mue l Brohl & Co ....... JM? 


©co - w o c 


LOVELL'S LIBRARY, 


BY REV. JAS. FREEMAN CLARK 


16? Anti-Slavery Days 20 

BY BERTHA M. CLAY 

183 Her Mother’s Sin 20 

2?? Dora Thorne 20 

287 Beyond Pardon 20 

420 A Broken Wedding-Ring 20 

423 Repented at Leisure 20 

458 Sunshine and Roses 20 

465 The Earl’s Atonement 20 

474 A Woman’s Temptation 20 

476 Love Works Wonders 20 

558 Fair but False 10 

593 Between Two Sins -...10 

651 At War with Herself 15 

669 Hilda 10 

689 Her Martyrdom 20 

692 Lord Lynn’s Choice 10 

694 The Shadow of a Sin 10 

695 Wedded and Parted 10 

700 In Cupid’s Net 10 

701 Lady Darner’s Secret 20 

718 A Gilded Sin 10 

720 Between Two Loves 20 

727 For Another’s Sin 20 

730 Romance of a Young Girl 20 

733 A Queen Amongst Women 10 

738 A Golden Dawn 10 

739 Like no Other Love 10 

740 A Bitter Atonement 20 

744 Evelyn’s Folly 20 

752 Set in Diamonds 20 

764 A Fair Mystery 20 

BY S. T. COLERIDGE 

23 Poems .30 


488 The Water-Witch 

491 The Red Rover .20 

501 The Pilot 20 

I 506 Wing and Wing 20 

I 512 Wyandotte 20 

517 Heidenmauer 20 

j 519 The Headsman 20 

524 The Bravo 20 

527 Lionel Lincoln 20 

529 Wept of Wish-ton- Wish 20 

532 Afloat and Ashore ’ 20 

539 Miles Wallingford 20 

543 The Monikins 20 

548 Mercedes of Castile 20 

553 The Sea Lions 20 

559 The Crater 20 

562 Oak Openings 20 

570 Satan stoe 20 

576 The Chain-Bearer ,20 

587 Ways of the Hour 20 

601 Precauti on 20 

603 Redskins 25 

611 Jack Tier 20 

BY KINAHAN CORNWALLIS 

409 Adrift with a Vengeance 25 

BY R. CRISWELL 

350 Grandfather Lickshingle 21) 

BY R. H. DANA, JR. 

464 Two Years before the Mast 20 

BY DANTE 

345 Dante’s Vision of Hell, Purgatory, 

and Paradise 20 


BY WILKIE COLLINS 

8 The Moonstone, Part 1 10 

9 The Moonstone, Part II 10 

24 The New Magdalen 20 

87 Heart and Science 20 

418 “I Say No” 20 

437 Tales of Two Idle Apprentices 15 

6»83 The Ghost’s Touch 10 

686 My Lady’s Money 10 

722 The Evil Genius 20 

BY HUGH CONWAY 

429 Called Back 15 

462 Dark Days 15 

612 Carriston’s Gift 10 

617 Paul Vargas; a Mystery 10 

631 A Family Affair 20 

667 Story of a Sculptor 10 

672 Slings and Arrow's 10 

715 A Cardinal Sin 20 

745 Living or Dead 20 

750 Somebody’s Story 10 

BY J. FENIMORE COOPER 

6 The Last of the Mohicans .20 

53 The Spy „.20 

365 The Pathfinder 20 

378 Homeward Bound 20 

441 Home as Found 20 

463 The Deerslayer 30 

467 The Prairie 20 

471 The Pioneer 25 

484 The Two Admirals , #> • .29 


BY FLORA A. DARLING 

260 Mrs. Darling’s War Letters 20 

BY JOYCE DARRELL 

315 Winifred Power 20 

BY ALPHONSE DAUDET 

478 Tartarin of Tarascon 20 

604 Sidonie 20 

613 Jack 20 

615 The Little Good-for-Nothing 20 

645 The Nabob 2S 

BY REV. C. H. DAVIES, D.D. 

453 Mystic London 20 

BY THE DEaN OF ST. PAUL’S 

431 Life of Spenser 10 

BY C. DEBANS 

475 A Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing 20 

BY REV. C. F. DEEMS, D.D. 

704 Evolution 20 

BY DANIEL DEFOE 

428 Robinson Crusoe 25 

BY THOS. DE QUINCEY 

20 The Spanish Nun 15 

BY CARL DETLEF 


27 Irene ; or, The Lonely Manor. .. , ..V 


10 

m 

75 

91 

140 

144 

150 

158 

170 

192 

201 

210 

219 

223 

228 

231 

234 

237 

244 

246 

261 

267 

270 

273 

274 

282 

288 

293 

297 

298 

302 

437 

404 

498 

58 

76 

78 

86 

90 

92 

126 

132 

162 

168 

284 

451 

477 

530 

618 

621 

624 

721 

735 

737 

95 

761 

761 


LOVELL'S LIJtJKAKI 


BY CHARLES DICKENS 

Oliver Twist 20 

A Tale of Two Cities 20 

Child’s History of England 20 

Pickwick Papers, 2 Parts, each 20 

The Cricket on the Hearth 10 

Old Curiosity Shop, 2 Parts, each. . . 15 

Barnaby Budge, 2 Parts, each 15 

David Copperfield, 2 Parts, each 20 

Hard Times 20 

Great Expectations 20 

Martin Chuzzlewit, 2 Parts, each 20 

American Notes 20 

Dombey and Son, 2 Parts, each 20 

Little Dorrit, 2 Parts, each. ... 20 

Our Mutual Friend. 2 Parts, each... 20 

Nicholas Nickleby, 2 Parts, each 20 

Pictures from Italy 10 

The Boy at Mugby 10 

Bleak House, 2 Parts, each 20 

Sketches of the Young Couples 10 

Master Humphrey’s Clock 10 

The Haunted House, etc 10 

The Mudfog Papers, etc 10 

Sketches by Boz .20 

A Christmas Carol, etc 15 

Uncommercial Traveller 20 

Somebody’s Luggage, etc 10 

The Battle of Life, etc 10 

Mystery of Edwin Drood 20 

Reprinted Pieces 20 

No Thoroughfare 15 

Tales of Two Idle Apprentices 10 

BY PROF. DOWDEN 

Life of Southey 10 

BY JOHN DRYDEN 

Poems 30 

BY THE “DUCHESS” 

Portia 20 

Molly Bawn 20 

Phyllis 20 

Monica 10 

Mrs. Geoffrey . 20 

Airy Fairy Lilian 20 

Loys, Lord Beresford 20 

Moonshine and Marguerites 10 

Faith and Unfaith 20 

Beauty’s Daughters 20 

Rossmoyne 20 

Doris 20 

A Week in Kiilarney 10 

In Durance Vile 10 

Dick’s Sweetheart; or, ‘‘ O Tender 

Dolores” 20 

A Maiden all Forlorn 10 

A Passive Crime 10 

Lady Branksmere 20 

A Mental Struggle 20 

The Haunted Chamber 10 

BY LORD DUFFERIN 

Letters from High Latitudes 20 


BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS 

Count of Monte Cristo, Part 1 20 

Count of Monte Cristo, Part II* * • v-80 


BY MRS. ANNIE EDWARDES 


681 A Girton Girl 20 

BY M. BETHAM-EDWARDS 

203 Disarmed 15 

663 The Flower of Doom 10 

BY GEORGE ELIOT 

56 Adam Bede, 2 Parts, each 15 

69 A mos Barton 10 

71 Silas Marner 10 

79 Romola, 2 Parts, each 15 

149 Janet’s Repentance 10 

151 Felix Holt 20 

174 Middlemarch, 2 Parts, each 20 

195 Daniel Deronda, 2 Parts, each 20 

202 Theophrastus Such 10 

205 The Spanish Gypsy, Jubal,and other 
Poems 20 

207 The Mill on the Floss, 2 Parts, each. 15 

208 Brother Jacob, e-tc 10 

374 Essays, and Leaves from a Note- 

Book 20 

BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON 

373 Essays 20 

ENGLISH MEN OF LETTERS. 
EDITED BY JOHN MORLEY 

348 Bunyan, by J. A. Froude 10 

407 Burke, by John Morley 10 

334 Burns, by Principal Shairp 10 

347 Byron, by Professor Nichol .10 

413 Chaucer, by Prof. A. W. Ward... .10 

424 Cowper, by Gold win Smith 10 

377 Defoe, by William Minto 10 

383 Gibbon, by J. C. Morison 10 

225 Goldsmith, by William Black 10 

369 Hume, by Professor Huxley 10 

401 Johnson, by Leslie Stephen 10 

380 Locke, by Thomas Fowler 10 

392 Milton, by Mark Pattison 10 

398 Pope, by Leslie Stephen 10 

364 Scott, by R. H. Hutton 10 

361 Shelley, by J. Symonds. 10 

404 Southey, by Professor Dowden 10 

431 Spencer, by the Dean of St. Paul’s. .10 

344 Thackeray, by Anthony Trollope. . .10 

410 Wordsworth, by F. Myers 10 

BY B. L. FARJEON 

243 Gautran ; or, House of White Shad- 
ows 20 

654 Love’s Harvest 20 

BY HARRIET FARLEY 

473 Christmas Stories 20 

BY F. W. FARRAR, D.D. 

19 Seekers after God 20 

50 Early Days of Christianity, 2 Parts, 

each 20 

BY OCTAVE FEUILLET 

41 A Marriage in High Life 20 

BY MRS. FORRESTER 

760 Fair Women ....... ..2# 


LOVELL'S LIBRARY, 


BY FRIEDRICH, BARON DE LA 


MOTTE FOUQUE 

711 Undine 10 

BY THOMAS FOWLER 

380 Life of Locke 10 

BY FRANCESCA 

177 The Story of Ida 10 

BY R. E. FRANCILLON 

319 A Real Queen 20 

BY ALBERT FRANKLYN 

122 Am^line de Bourg 15 

BY L. VIRGINIA FRENCH 

485 My Roses 20 

BY J. A. FROUDE 

348 Life of Bunyan 10 

BY EMILE GABORIAU 

114 Monsieur Lecoq, 2 Parts, each 20 

116 The Lerouge Case 20 

120 Other People’s Money 20 

129 In Peril of His Life 20 

138 The Gilded Clique 20 

155 Mystery of Orcival 20 

101 Promise of Marriage 10 

258 File No. 113 , 20 

BY HENRY GEORGE 

62 Progress and Poverty 20 

*C0 The Land Question 10 

Social Problems 20 

BY CHARLES GIBBON 

*7 The Golden Shaft 20 

BY J. W. VON GOETHE 

342 Goethe's Faust 20 

343 Goethe’s Poem s 20 

BY OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

61 Vicar of Wakefield 10 

362 Plays and Poems 20 

BY MRS. GORE 

89 The Dean’s Daughter 20 

BY JAMES GRANT 

49 The Secret Despatch 20 

BY CECIL GRIFFITH 

732 Victory Deane 20 

BY ARTHUR GRIFFITHS 

709 No. 99 10 

THE BROTHERS GRIMM 

221 Fairy Tales, Illustrated 20 

BY LIEUT. J. W. GUNNISON 

440 History of the Mormons 15 

BY MARION HARLAND 


107 Housekeeping aud Homemaking*** 


BY ERNST HAECKEL 

97 India and Ceylon 20 

BY F. W. HACKLANDER 

606 Forbidden Fruit 20 

BY A. EGMONT HAKE 

371 The Story of Chinese Gordon 20 

BY LUDOVIC HALEVY 

15 L’ Abbe Constantin 20 

BY THOMAS HARDY 

43 Two on a Tower 20 

157 Romantic Adventures of a Milk 

maid 10 

749 The Mayor of Casterbridge 20 

BY JOHN HARRISON AND M. 
COMPTON 

414 Over the Summer Sea 20 

BY J. B. HARWOOD 

269 One False, both Fair 20 

BY JOSEPH HATTON 

7 Clytie 20 

137 Cruel London 20 

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE 

370 Twice Told Tales 20 

376 Grandfather’s Chair 20 

BY MARY CECIL HAY 

466 Under the Will 10 

566 The Arundel Motto 20 

590 Old Myddleton’s Money 20 

BY MRS. FELICIA HEMANS 

583 Poems 30 

BY DAVID J. HILL, LL.D. 

5?3 Principles and Fallacies of Social- 
ism 15 

BY M. L. HOLBROOK, M.D. 

356 Hygiene of the Brain 25 

BY MRS. M. A. HOLMES 

709 Woman against Woman 20 

743 A Woman’s Vengeance 20 

BY PAXTON HOOD 

73 Life of Cromwell 15 

BY THOMAS HOOD 

511 Poems ...30 

BY HORRY AND WEEMS 

36 Life of Marion 20 

BY ROBERT HOUDIN 

14 The Tricks of the Greeks 20 

BY EDWARD HOWLAND 

742 Soeial Solutions, Part I 10 

747 “ “ Part II 3 

758 “ “ PartHI If. 

762 “ “ Part IV 10 

765 « ** Part V * 


LOVELL'S LIBRARY 


BY MARIE HOWLAND 

534 Papa’ s Own Girl 30 

BY JOHN W. HOYT, LL.D. 

535 Studies in Civil Service. 16 

BY THOMAS HUGHES 

61 Tom Brown’s School Days 20 

186 Tom Brown at Oxford, 2 Parts, each. 15 

BY PROF. HUXLEY 

369 Life of Hume 10 

BY STANLEY HUNTLEY 

109 The Spoopendyke Papers 20 

BY R. H. HUTTON 

364 Life of Scott 20 

BY WASHINGTON IRVING 

147 The Sketch Book 20 

198 Tales of a Traveller 20 

199 Life and Voyages of Columbus, 

Part I 20 

Life and Voyages of Columbus, 

Part II 20 

224 Abbotsford and Nevvstead Abbey. . .10 

236 Knickerbocker History of New York, 20 

249 The Crayon Papers 20 

'263 The Alhambra 15 

272 Conquest of Granada 20 

279 Conquest of Spain 10 

281 Bracebridge Hall 20 

290 Salmagundi 20 

299 Astoria 20 

301 Spanish Voyages 20 

305 A Tour on the Prairies 10 

308 Life of Mahomet, 2 Parts, each 15 

310 Oliver Goldsmith 20 

311 Captain Bonneville 20 

314 Moorish Chronicles 10 

321 Wolfert’s Roost and Miscellanies 10 

BY HARRIET JAY 

17 The Dark Colleen 20 

BY SAMUEL JOHNSON 

44 Rasselas 10 

BY MAURICE JOKAI 

754 A Modern Midas 20 

BY JOHN KEATS 

531 Poems 25 

BY EDWARD KELLOGG 

111 Labor and Capital 20 

BY GRACE KENNEDY 

106 Dunallan, 2 Parts, each 15 

BY JOHN P. KENNEDY 

67 Horse-Shoe Robinson, 2 Parts, each. . 15 

. BY CHARLES KINGSLEY 


39 The Hermits 20 

64 Hypatia, 2 Parts, each 15 

BY HENRY KINGSLEY 

726 Austin Eliot 20 

728 The Hillyars and Burtons. . , 20 


Leighton Court „ 20 

Geoffrey Hamlyn 30 

BY W. H. G. KINGSTON 

Peter the Whaler 20 

Mark Seaworth 20 

Round the World ^20 

The Young Foresters 20 

Salt Water 20 

The Midshipman 20 

BY F. KIRBY 

The Golden Dog 40 

BY A. LA POINTE 

The Rival Doctors „20 

BY MISS MARGARET LEE 

Divorce 20 

A Brighton Night 20 

Dr. Wilmer’s Love 25 

Lorimer and Wife 20 

BY JULES LERMINA 

The Chase 20 

BY CHARLES LEVER 

Harry Lorrequer . „ . 20 

BY H. W LONGFELLOW 

Hyperion 20 

Outre-Mer 20 

Poems 20 

BY SAMUEL LOVER 

The Happy Man . . 10 

Rory O’ More 20 

BY HENRY W. LUCY 

Gideon Fleyce 20 

BY HENRY C. LUKENS 

J ets and Flashes 20 

BY E. LYNN LYNTON 

lone Stewart 20 

BY LORD LYTTON 

The Coming Race .... 10 

Leila .10 

Ernest Maltravers 20 

The Haunted House 10 

Alice ; A Sequel to Ernest Maltra- 
vers 20 

A Strange Story 20 

Last Days of Pompeii 20 

Zanoni 20 

Night and Morning, 2 Parts, each . . 15 

Paul Clifford 20 

Lady of Lyons 10 

Money 10 

Richelieu 10 

Rienzi, 2 Parts, each 15 

Pelham 20 

Eugene Aram 20 

The Disowned 20 

Kenelm Chillingly 20 

What Will He Do with It ? 2 Parts, 

each 20 

Devereux . » .20 

The Caxtons, 2 Parts, each 15 


731 

736 

254 

322 

324 

335 

337 

338 

454 

445 

25 

600 

725 

741 

469 

327 

1 

2 

482 

163 

719 

96 

131 

275 

11 

12 

31 

32 

45 

55 

59 

81 

84 

117 

121 

128 

152 

160 

176 

204 

222 

240 

245 

247 



•The treatment of many thousands of 
©&?*« of those ohronio weaknesses and 
distressing' ailments peculiar to females, 
at the Invalids* Hotel and Surgical In- 
stitute, Buffalo, N. Y., has afforded a 
vast experience In nicely adapting and 
thoroughly testing remedies for the 
cure of woman’s peculiar maladies. 

Hr* Pierce’s Favorite Prescrip- 
tion is the outgrowth, or result, of this 
great and valuable experience. Thou- 
sands of testimonials received from pa- 
tients and from physicians who have 
tested it in the more aggravated and 
obstinate cases which had baffled their 
Skill, prove it to be the most wonderful 
remedy ever devised for the relief and 
cure of suffering women. It is not re- 
commended as a “cure-all,** but as a 
most perfect Speciflo for woman’s 
peculiar ailments. 

As a powerful, invigorating 

tonic It imparts strength to the wholo 
System, and to the uterus, or womb and 
Its appendages, in particular. For over- 
worked. “worn-out,** “run-down,** de- 
bilitated teachers, milliners, dressmak- 
ers, seamstresses, “ shop-girls,** house- 
keepers, nursing mothers, and feeble 
women generally. Dr. Pierce’s Favorite 
Prescription is the greatest earthly boon, 
being unequalled as an appetizing cor- 
dial and restorative tonic. It promotes 
digestion and assimilation of food, cures 
nausea, weakness of stomach, indiges- 
tion, bloating and eructations of gas. 

As a soothing and strengthen- 
ing nervine, “ Favorite Prescription *’ 
is unequalled and is invaluable in allay- 
ing *and subduing nervous excitability, 
irritability, exhaustion, prostration, hys- 
teria, spasms and other distressing, nerv- 
ous symptoms commonly attendant upon 
functional and organic disease of the 
womb. It induces refreshing sleep and 
relieves mental anxiety and despond- 
ency. 

Br. Pierce’s Favorite Prescrip- 
tion is a legitimate medicine, 
carefully compounded by an experienc- 
ed and skillful physician, and adapted 
to woman’s delicate organization. It is 
.purely vegetable la its composition aud 


perfectly harmless In its effects in any 

condition of the system. ^ 

u Favorite Prescription* la a 
positive cure for the most com pit 
cated and obstinate cases of leucorrhea, 
or “ whites,” excessive flowing at month- 
ly periods, painful menstruation, unnat- 
ural suppressions, prolapsus or failing 
of the womb, weak back, “female weak- 
ness,” ante version, retroversion, bearing- 
down sensations, chronic congestion, in- 
flammation and ulceration of the womb, 
inflammation, pain and tenderness in 
ovaries, accompanied with Internal heat. 

In pregnancy, “Favorite Prescrip- 
tion ** is a “mother’s cordial,” relieving 
nausea, weakness of stomach and other 
distressing symptoms common to that 
condition. If its use is kept up in the 
latter months of gestation, it so prepares 
the system for delivery as to greatly 
lessen, and many times almost entirely 
do away with the suiferings of that try- 
ing ordeal. 

« Favorite Prescription,* when 

taken in connection with the use of 
Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery, 
and small laxative doses of Dr. Pierce’s 
Purgative Pellets (Little Liver Pills), 
cures Liver, Kidney and Bladder dla 
eases. Their combined use also removes 
blood taints, and abolishes cancerous 
and scrofulous humors from the system. 

Treating tlie Wrong Disease*— 
Many times women call on their family 
physicians, suffering, as they Imagine, 
one fro m dyspepsia, another from heart 
disease, another from liver or kidney 
disease, another from nervous exhaus- 
tion or prostration, another with pain 
here or there, and In this way they ffll 
present alike to themselves and their 
easy-going and indifferent, or over-busy 
doctor, separate and distinct diseases, 
for which he prescribes his pills ana 
potions, assuming them to* be such, 
when, in reality, they are all only symp- 
toms caused by some womb disorder. 
The physician. Ignorant of the cause of 
suffering, encourages his practice until 
large bills are made. The suffering pa- 
tient gets no better, but probably worse 
by reason of the delay, wrong treatment 
and consequent complications. A prop- 
er medicine, like Dr. Pierce’s Favorite 
Prescription, directed to the cause would 
have entirely removed the disease, there- 
by dispelling all those distressing symp- 
toms, and instituting comfort instead of 
prolonged misery. 

66 Favorite Prescription* is the 
only medicine for women sold, by drug- 
gists, under a positive guarantee! 
from the manufacturers, that it will 
give satisfaction in every case, or money 
will be refunded. This guarantee has 
been printed on the bottle-wrapper, and 
faithfully carried out for many years. 
Darge bottles (100 doses) $1.00* or 
six bottles for $5.00. ■»' 

Send ten cents in stamps for Dr. 
Pierce’s large, illustrated Treatise (16Q 
pages) on Diseases of Women. Address, 
World’s Dispensary Medioal Association, 
No, 0<ttt main Utmmmt, buffalo^ a i T, 



























